


A Lesson In Humility

by helo572



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 10:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7529488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helo572/pseuds/helo572
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Hanzo had wanted was a little brother. Instead, he finds a strange woman on his windowsill one night.</p><p>Or the one where Genji is a Jedi, Hanzo is a Sith and nobody really asked for any of this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lesson In Humility

**Author's Note:**

> "For the likes of you, the path to happiness is one mean son of a bitch of a path." - Dean Koontz, a quote which my co-author DEMANDED I relate to this monster of a fic.
> 
> We both suffered due to Overwatch lore, notably the Shimada brothers and their very complicated relationship. And myself, being a Star Wars nerd, managed to heavily relate the two and hence a plotline formed. What we have planned is quite long and will center on the two brothers' relationship, as well as the relationship between the light and the dark. We really hope you enjoy our feels trip.
> 
> PLEASE CAN I EMPHASISE: You don't have to have sufficient knowledge of the Star Wars universe and canon to know what's going on during this fic. My co-author has never seen a Star Wars movie in her life and she's doing just fine. Additionally, this is NOT a copy-paste of Star Wars canon in the slightest, it is completely different. Things will be explained, we promise.

“Master Jedi, does he have to go?” The child’s voice makes the force wielder stop, a sad smile adorning her blue face. Her white and blue lekku lightens as she turns to see the child’s brother, watching her from the open doorway. His hands are twisted in front of his person, and his lips are pursed together. “He’s my only brother.”

 

“It is what is best for him, young one,” she answers, still smiling. “He is strong with the Force.”

 

“I was gonna be the best big brother.”

 

“You are,” she replies. “You are letting him become who he was born to be. A Jedi, a servant of the light and a defender of the Republic.”

 

“But-”

 

“He will always be with you, little one.” With Genji in her arms, she moves back up the steps, moving to touch her elegant fingers to his shoulder. “As long as you both breathe.”

 

The little boy’s eyes go soft as he looks at his little brother in the Jedi’s arms, nearly swallowed by her brown robe. Her apprentice, a younger boy of the same race, trails behind her. His arms are clasped into his robe.

 

“Genji,” he says one last time.

 

The Jedi smiles softly at the child, and then turns to her apprentice, murmuring something to him. He nods in reply, taking the steps one at a time towards their transport.

 

The Jedi Master turns back to the child, inclining her head. “May the Force always be with you, young one,” she tells him, the traditional Jedi farewell. She turns to leave, trailing after her apprentice.

 

“Genji!” the child cries after her. “Don’t go! Please! _Genji_!”

 

His mother seizes the child’s shoulder from behind him, having appeared in the doorway. The Jedi gives her a last wave before disappearing inside the white Naboo transport, which hovers into the air, and takes off towards the local spaceport.

 

The child watches the transport disappear into the horizon, swallowed by the sky. He sniffs, and then buries his head into his mother’s skirt to cry.

 

The boy spends the next day in his room, his eyes glued to his window which overlooks the street below. He wishes and wishes and wishes, as hard as he can, to all of the Jedi names he can remember that they will bring back his brother.

 

His mother and father coax him out of his self-imposed exile with stories of the Jedi and their grace, their serenity and their power. Yet, to him, they are still those who took his little brother away. He had only held him once.

 

As soon as little Genji toppled his cot during his second month at home, in an impressive display of his control of the Force, his parents hadn’t let him touch the Force sensitive child.

 

Their attempts to contact the Jedi had spanned months and months following that first incident, and all ended at assurances by others that in time, the Jedi would come for their child and take him to a better place. To the boy, it sounded like his parents were committing Genji to his demise.

 

All he had wanted was a little brother.

 

Instead, he finds a strange woman on his windowsill one night.

 

She looks like a twi’lek, but two horns protrude from the bottom of her blue lekku, giving her an eerily threatening appearance. She is a small woman, only about the size of the boy’s own mother.

 

“Are you a Jedi?”

 

At the question, she smiles, revealing her impressively white teeth. “... From a certain point of view, yes,” she replies. A strange accent sticks to her words, so that they’re sheened in poison.

 

The little boy’s brown eyes shine up at the woman, hope shining in his eyes. “Are you going to take me to my brother?”

 

She gets to her feet, and the dark robe engulfing her falls to her ankles. She takes a step towards him, her heel clicking on the tiled floor of his bedroom.

 

“I can,” she replies in a purr. “But first, little one, you have to promise me something.”

 

“Mother says that if you break a promise a starship falls out of the sky.”

 

Again, she smiles, this time huffing in amusement. “Then you ought to keep this promise, mustn’t you, child?” She is close now, towering over the young boy, her yellow eyes boring into his brown ones. “You cannot tell anyone I was here. Easy, yes?”

 

The boy nods, his eyes locked onto her yellow ones. Her amused smile spreads into a dangerous one.

 

“Good,” she approves. “Then I shall be seeing you again soon.” She gives the boy one last, lingering look, before turning abruptly on her heel towards the windowsill.

 

“What about Genji?” the boy raises, when the alien’s blue finger touches the glass panes on his window, edging it open. Even the small crack encourages a chill to enter the child’s bedroom. “I want my brother.”

 

“In time,” she answers. “I promise you, as you have promised me.”

 

With that, she disappears into the night, leaving the window ajar.

 

The child doesn’t see her again for a good while, not until after the boy turns six, and on the day of what would be Genji’s third birthday. His parents speak to him in hushed tones, mumbling reassurances that by now, Genji’s Jedi training would have begun, and he is better there with the Jedi than with them, his own family.

 

He misses him terribly.

 

That night, the woman picks up a book from his bedroom floor, putting them back into their nooks on the shelf. Even in the dark, he can tell her appearance has not changed since the last time he saw her.

 

“You kept your promise,” she observes.

 

The child suppresses a shiver as her yellow eyes meet his brown ones in the darkness. He sits up straighter in bed, fisting the covers in his hands.

 

“You didn’t,” he replies defensively. “My brother is still gone.”

 

She answers immediately, “You weren’t ready.”

 

She sets another book back on the shelf, and this time, it hovers into the air behind her. It still settles perfectly onto the bookcase.

 

Now smirking, she goes on, “If two parents birth a Force sensitive child, it is likely all of their children have some sensitivity to the Force. Genji only had a better grasp on it. But you, my child, can be so much more than that. I can train you, show you the ways of the Force, so that you can find your brother again.”

 

The boy releases his covers.  “You mean…?” he asks.

 

“That you can be a Jedi?” she finishes for him, now with a book open in her hand, her attention affixed to the pages. “Yes, my child, you can wield the Force like they do. You can find your brother with it.” She turns a page in the book, whilst the boy leans forward, now hanging on her every word. “Within the Force, all beings are connected, even you and I.”

 

“And me and Genji.”

 

“Yes. Being brothers, you will find him, one day. It is the will of the Force. It will draw you back to him. It always does.”

 

The boy sets his chin. “I want to find my brother,” he affirms. “Please, you promised me. I kept mine.”

 

She is silent for a few moments, her eyes still darting across the pages of the book. When the boy swallows, she sighs softly, closing the hard cover into her palm. She sets it back on the shelf, and her fingers linger on the spine.

 

“Another promise, child. Your last one, to me.” Her yellow eyes find his brown ones, searching for something obviously she is only looking for.

 

“Anything.”

 

“Promise, to me. Swear yourself as my apprentice, alleged to only myself, Darth Araign.”

 

Something cold swirls through the boy’s bedroom, creeping up the base of his spine, working its way to his mind. It radiates power, and is only intensified by the woman’s - Darth Araign’s - stare.

 

“I… I swear.”

 

Her mouth spreads into a smile. “Good. All of your ships shall fly tonight, my dear Hanzo.”

 

* * *

 

“Bad day at the office, Gabriel?” Amélie quickly falls into step besides the Onderon politician, enroute from his office. A dangerous smile plays on her blue face.

 

The human groans, almost comically. “I have better things to concern myself with than your games, Amélie.”

 

“Actually, I wanted to discuss my business trip to Naboo.”

 

That stops Gabriel in his steps. The man turns to face her, his dark eyebrows raised. “Your… _business_ trip?” Briefly, his eyes flash yellow, in contrast to his dark skin.

 

She gives a nod. Around them, the busy halls of the Republic Senate chambers bustle with activity, and they go unnoticed in the sea of politicians, ambassadors and servants.

 

“Of course,” the Sith says instead. “We can discuss business. I always have time for business.” He takes a meaningful look around, then settles his icy gaze back on Amélie. “Shall we take it back to my residence?” he asks.

 

“Perhaps mine would be best,” she replies. “After all, what we are to discuss, is fit only for the rooms of the senator of Onderon. Not simply a mere _weasel_ under my thumb.” Her eyes flick in challenge to the Sith Master standing before her, who simply rolls his eyes in response.

 

“You should be careful who you tease, _ma chèrie_.”

 

“And you should be careful where you’re pointing that French, _esé_.”

 

Their trek through the busy halls of the council building is short, as the crowd easily lets them through, as if influenced by an outside force. The private transport ride from the Senate building to senator residence is also quick, with traffic quiet at this time in the afternoon.

 

“I received three new reports today,” Gabriel says, at one point, while he stares out the window at the city passing by. “From other senators, pledging their concern about the Republic’s relations. Notably with the Jedi.”

 

“And I am tired of your political talk already, Master,” Amélie returns, her chin propped up on her hand. “Is it really that simple to forget you are the most powerful Force user on the planet?”

 

“My apprentice,” Gabriel croons in return, teasingly. “You should have more faith in the judgement of your master.”

 

“With the greatest respect, _Master_ , your judgement has, and always will be, literal sithspit.”

 

“Duly noted, my apprentice.”

 

Amélie gives a sigh full of disdain. “I will say, time and time again, the Jedi will easily work against your patience,” she says. “They have numbers and the Republic in their pocket. You will never best them, not like this.”

 

“Yes,” Gabriel sighs, “but a show of force will not work in our favour. What good is it, to turn the people we serve against us?”

 

Amélie leans back in her chair, a tight-lipped smile playing on her blue face. They have had this argument far too many times. She already knows what the outcome will be.

 

“Amélie,” the Sith Lord drawls on, at her silence. “You understand why I am reluctant to recruit more dark side users,” Gabriel says, swirling the liquid in his glass around. He takes a sip, and makes sure to hold Amélie’s gaze.

 

“And yet you still permitted me to go,” she replies, sipping at her own drink.

 

“Only in an investigative capacity,” he reminds her, “to see what these Force sensitive children can do for us.”

 

“And I’m telling you, Gabriel, they can do _very much_. The Rule of Two, it’s old, it dates back to the Mandalorian Wars. Perhaps it is time-”

 

Gabriel easily cuts over his apprentice, without even raising a finger, “Revan was a renowned Sith Lord. His teachings span much of what we practice now, including the Rule of Two. He has helped us to survive. To keep strong against the Jedi.”

 

“Yet there are two of us,” she returns. “Not millions.”

 

The Sith master sets down his wine glass on the table. “We are the strongest the Sith have ever been, Amélie. That is what the Rule grants us.”

 

“And we masquerade as politicians.”

 

Shaking his head, he answers, gesturing pointedly as he speaks, “Only to preserve us, as Revan described. It is why we wait. The time must be right when the Sith return to the galaxy.”

 

“The time is always right. The Jedi think us extinct.”

 

“And in that, is our strength.”

 

Amélie gives a scornful sigh, and downs the last of her drink. “I still wish to train an apprentice myself. Your ravings will not change that.”

 

“These… ‘ravings’, my dear apprentice, come from Revan’s teachings.”

 

Amélie gives a nonchalant shrug, affirming, “Yet, I still want to train an apprentice. Funny, how the answer hasn’t changed.”

 

Gabriel rolls his eyes again, then leans forward in his chair. “And did you find any suitable candidates?” he asks.

 

“Yes.”

 

“And?” Again, Gabriel drinks.

 

“ _And_ ,” Amélie continues for him, “I am confident that with your support, I can train these Force sensitive children in the ways of the dark side, exactly as you have taught me.”

 

The Sith master regards his apprentice carefully now, his face unreadable as he holds her gaze. After a long moment of silence where neither dark side user moves, the master sighs, getting to his feet.

 

He strolls over to the nearby window with his drink in hand, looking out over the city. “Revan-” he begins, but does not continue what is likely the start of a very long monologue, or even his train of thought, as a lightsaber imbeds itself into his chest.

 

It lands perfectly in a well-calculated throw, so that the hilt protrudes neatly for Amélie Lacroix to grasp and promptly sheath. She attaches the weapon back to her belt, where it sits hidden from sight.

 

The body of the Sith master crumples to the ground, hitting her apartment floor with a satisfying thud. She allows herself a smirk, toeing the dead Sith at her feet.

 

“Oh, Master,” she croons. “The strength of the Sith will always cease to amaze you.”

 

Inhaling, Amélie then reaches out with the Force. It rages through her veins, setting her eyes alight in streaks of yellow. The window before the Sith apprentice, now the master, explodes into thousands of pieces, and it showers down over the city below.

 

Like a stain on her heel, she promptly nudges the body of Gabriel Reyes into the abyss.

 

The Force leaves her as quickly as it appeared, disappearing like the air from her lungs. Then, blinking down at the expanse of the cityscape below, she takes her communicator from her belt.

 

“H-Hello, this is… is… Amélie Lacroix, senator to Onderon. I-I… oh my god, it happened s-so fast, these assassins… in my apartment. Ambassador Reyes… h-h-he, oh my god, they… they killed him! Right in front of me! I-I don’t know to do, I’m hiding, they’re still- still-!”

 

“Affirmative, senator, we read you. Stay calm. We’re mobilising all teams to your location immediately,” the comm crackles to her in return.

 

“P-Please,” she adds, for affect, as she bends down to retrieve a piece of glass from the floor. There, she slides it across her blue palm, her face impassive. “I-I-I’m so… so… scared. Oh, Gabriel…!”

 

Blood and tears riddle her form by the time the Coruscant Senate Guard crash through her apartment door, with her cowering from behind an upturned piece of furniture, as the wind from the Coruscanti skyline rips through her apartment.

 

The following day, Amélie Lacroix stands before the Republic Senate, her face steeled with emotions she has not felt in years.

 

“I stand here a martyr,” she says, her voice booming across the circular hall. She holds all attention in the room, finally. “My colleague - my friend - Ambassador Gabriel Reyes was _murdered_ yesterday afternoon, following his file for internal investigation of the Galactic Senate. To me, the culprit is obvious; you all stare me in the face. You all think yourself so mighty, that you murder a man - a good man - for your own selfish purposes.”

 

Murmurs quickly raise from within the large room, but Amélie’s voice easily dominates them.

 

“How is it, the very government people are supposed to trust, cannot trust themselves? Their own colleagues? Their own friends? How is that democracy?”

 

“Here here!” sounds from across the hall, from numerous parties. Internally, the Sith master’s mouth spreads into a hungry smile.

 

“Gabriel’s unjust murder has only confirmed one thing to me,” she goes on, now with tears shining in her eyes. For dramatic effect, she sniffs, swallowing thickly. “His _murder_ , it tells me, that the Republic is truly not a democracy. How can we be, if an innocent man is murdered for what he believes? What is it our right, to steal someone’s life? Is it the right of a government? A man?

 

“I refuse to support a government which condones such acts. A government that is not a democracy; the one I support. The one Gabriel supported, right up until his life was stolen from him. His last act as ambassador to Onderon, that is under my counsel, he formed an informal Confederacy to challenge the Republic and their corrupt dealings. It is with a grieving hand today, that I move, the Confederacy is here!”

 

The hall _roars_. It is a cacophony of noise, where cheers, screams and shouts of protest mix into one.

 

Senator Lacroix covers her mouth with her hands, consumed by emotion for her lost friend and his dream. Sith Lord Darth Araign is soaring.

 

“Those who stand with me, let it be known! Gabriel’s sacrifice will not be in vain! The Republic will answer to its dealings!”

 

“Here here!” the hall screams back at her. “Here here!”

   
Liberty dies, followed by thunderous applause.

**Author's Note:**

>  **For reference:**  
>  Genji - human  
> Hanzo - human  
> Widowmaker - chagrian  
> Reaper - human  
> Zenyatta - togruta


End file.
